All
rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the holder
of these rights except in the case of brief quotations used in
critical articles and reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. All characters portrayed are fictitious. Names,
places and incidents are from the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.

To
Phyllis

When the melody
captures my heed

And the horn is of good
tone

The world agrees with
my vision

Hearing the song alone.

Henry Dixon Butler

Part
One

1971

Chapter
I

“I don’t believe in
unnecessary risks.” As it was her right arm being talked about, the
patient did not disagree. The bones had healed, and the cast could
have been cut off before leaving San Francisco. The girl stated
forthrightly how tired she was living with an L shaped arm that she
felt sure was growing weaker by the day, but her doctor thought it
best to leave the cast on for the journey. He did not want to risk
any strains or something worse before physical therapy began. On a
September Thursday Marianne Fallbrook flew from San Francisco to New
York where she was met by her aunt and uncle, the latter being Fred
Fallbrook, her father’s younger brother. The couple had last
visited San Francisco seven years before and were initially afraid
that they would not recognize the little girl they had known who was
now sixteen, but Marianne’s father had reminded them that all they
had to do was look for a tall blonde with a cast on her right arm.

The threesome dined in
the uncle’s favorite steakhouse that night. Marianne ordered the
one fish item on the menu, broiled salmon, to be able to eat one
handed and not have to ask for help. Her aunt and uncle asked many
questions in an attempt to get to know her. The girl did not know how
much they knew about her recent life, and she did her best to keep
the conversation on sports and music. When her uncle asked why she
wished to come east to a boarding school when she was already going
to one of the best public high schools in the country, the same high
school that he and his brother had attended, she blandly replied that
she wanted a change.

“Were you having
trouble making friends?” asked Aunt Judy.

“I suppose you could
say that. Some people I thought were my friends turned out not to be
so friendly.”

“Were the other girls
mean to you?”

“Some of them.”

“Girls can do that.
A lot of insecure girls will lash out at the beautiful and the
accomplished if they can get some others to go along.”

“Let’s hope that I
do better beginning tomorrow.”

“I am sure you will,”
said Uncle Fred. “You know it was basketball that got you admitted
to Waterman so late in the academic year. When your father told me
what you wanted to do, I asked all my partners who had been to prep
schools whether there was any way to apply in June for admittance in
September. Most said it was almost certainly too late. But one, John
Clough, said there was a possibility at his old school if the boy or
girl was a really good athlete. I said you were. Your father told me
you were the best player on your undefeated basketball team. Clough
called his old headmaster and a couple of days later he told me to
have you apply to Waterman Faith Martin. They must have checked you
out somehow.”

“I know you told us
to send the application directly to the headmaster.”

“Yes, it must have
been one of the easiest acceptances to a prep school in modern
times.”

“It’s nice to know
something good has come out of basketball. My parents and my piano
teacher thought I was crazy when I decided to teach myself the game.”

“You didn’t think
you were crazy, did you?”

“I knew I was a tall
girl who could run fast. Part of it was to do something different
that was completely my own doing. Part of it was to get some
exercise. Part of it was to see if I could play with boys as an
equal.”

“Do you play with the
boys as an equal?”

“I do.”

“I understand that
you have always had the same piano teacher.”

“Yes, Madame
Cheboshova.”

“A new teacher will
be a big change. Are you concerned?”

“A little.
Technically, I don’t have much to learn. What I need from a teacher
is critiques on how well I am bringing a piece alive and advice as to
how to do that if he thinks I am a bit dull. If the teacher isn’t
well trained and very good at the piano, it might be a waste of time,
or even worse. But if I really am to consider myself a professional,
I will have to figure out most things by myself.”

“Very wise,” said
the aunt, not knowing what more to say on hearing a teenager make
such a statement.

The next morning her
aunt drove Marianne to the school in Connecticut. The campus, a
collection of red brick buildings and wooden houses surrounded by
well-tended green lawns and the occasional shade-tree sat at the
northeast end of a small town. The school had begun in a
pre-Revolutionary War bungalow eighty years earlier when what was now
the campus was a residential neighborhood. The fields and woods to
the east had quickly been bought, and gradually the houses in the
neighborhood were bought as well. A few of the old wooden structures
were remodeled into dormitories; the rest were torn down to make way
for new school buildings and open space.

Aunt Judy followed
other cars up a paved driveway to the steps of Post House, a four
story plus basement brick building with four white ionic columns
supporting a portico at the top of a wide and substantial set of
steps. On stopping they were greeted by a sixth form girl who
introduced herself as Sarah Lear. While Aunt Judy waited with the
car, Sarah shepherded Marianne inside to meet the dean, Mr. Paulson,
who gave out room and class assignments. The dean greeted her
effusively with what struck her as a note of forced joviality as he
assured her that it was wonderful that Waterman Faith Martin should
have such a poised young lady coming all the way from California.
Marianne thanked him, and she and her chaperone returned to the car
where Sarah gave directions to Marsh House, named after an early
headmistress of Faith Martin. Marianne would soon find that all the
girls could not help noting its proximity to a pond full of reeds and
algae. Once there, the three unloaded Marianne’s four pieces of
luggage: two suitcases full of clothes; a large duffel bag with two
basketballs, two pairs of athletic shoes and assorted athletic
clothes; and a small suitcase containing sheet music and piano tuning
tools that weighed as much as the larger bags.

Miss Earnshaw, the
housemistress, stood in the center of the common room with clipboard
in hand greeting all comers. Sarah introduced Marianne and her aunt.
Marianne extended her left hand, and Miss Earnshaw tentatively
accepted it with her right hand, giving the impression to the girl
that the woman thought there was something improper about being
offered a left hand even if the right was disabled. “And where are
you from, Marianne?”

“San Francisco,
California.”

“I don’t think we
have any other California girls in the house this year. Linda Cook
is from Denver. She is the only other girl from the west I can think
of.”

“That’s fine. I
came here for something new.”

“That’s the
spirit.” Miss Earnshaw looked at her list and said, “Marianne
Fallbrook. You are in room 206. Is that what Mr. Paulson told you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It’s always
nice when the records agree. Go up the stairs, turn right, and it is
down the hall on your right. Your roommate is Penny Scott. She is a
returning girl and will be coming tomorrow.”

The threesome hauled
the luggage up the stairs and proceeded to the room. It was a plain
room with brown wainscoting on the lower half of the walls and white
plaster on the upper half. It held two single beds, two small desks
with chairs, two dark-stained chests of drawers, two closets and one
well-upholstered easy chair and one bookcase. “The easy chair and
the bookcase must belong to Penny Scott. The school does not provide
those. The rest is basic Faith Martin furniture moved here a year ago
from our old campus.”

“Did you go to Faith
Martin before the merger?”

“Yes, I was there for
two years.”

“Were you for the
merger?”

“I was, although now
that I have had a year with the boys, I can understand why some of
the alumnae opposed it. A classroom with boys and girls together is
very different from one with girls only. With boys in the room, one
of them usually has to be the class clown, and the ones who are
unhappy with anything are sure to let everyone else know it. Girls
are better at sticking to the subject and keeping quiet about their
unhappiness.”

“Why did the schools
merge?”

“Money. Women don’t
give to their old school like men do. Faith Martin was always begging
and skimping when it wanted to do anything like build a new building
or equip a new laboratory. It had no endowment to speak of. At
Waterman, a lot of the sons and brothers of graduates were refusing
to come here because there were no girls, and that jeopardized future
contributions. So they merged. Now the women trustees don’t have to
worry so much about money, and the girls get to watch the boys throw
specimens at each other in biology lab.”

“I’m used to that.
I’ve always gone to public schools.”

“I have to get back
to the Post House steps. Do you have any questions?”

“I understand there
are some piano practice rooms. Can you tell me where they are?”

“In the basement of
Drew House. That is back up the hill to the north of Expedition
House. Do you play?”

“Yes.”

“I used to, but I
don’t play much anymore. You know, Faith Martin was not an old
fashioned finishing school, and it certainly isn’t now that it has
merged with Waterman. Colleges and graduate schools have opened up
and a girl can be anything she wants to be. I’m aiming for
medicine, and I advise you to prepare yourself to be something more
than a well turned out young lady.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry.
I forgot your name.”

“Sarah Lear.”

“I’ll remember your
advice.”

The sixth form girl
said, “See you later. I hope you have a good experience here.”

“Rather full of
herself, I’d say,” said Aunt Judy after Sarah had closed the door
behind her.

“Maybe she doesn’t
like the piano.”

“Or pretty girls from
California.”

“Until I get my right
arm back, I have enough to worry about. It’s very hard for me to
live without both hands at the piano. The left handed repertoire
doesn’t do it for me. If I was Wittgenstein, I would have shot
myself in 1919. Three or four hours a day just seems so natural. The
composers of the great music are more real to me than somebody like
Sarah Lear will ever be. ‘I advise you to prepare yourself.’ I’ve
been preparing myself since I was four.”

“I know, dear. You
are going to meet difficult people wherever you go. Choose your
friends carefully. And in a few weeks your arm will be just as good
as new. Be grateful nothing worse happened.”

“I know. This broken
arm has given me some new understanding of my father.”

“Yes, your uncle says
he came back from the war a changed man. But who wouldn’t be under
the circumstances?”

“I agree.”

Aunt Judy helped
Marianne unpack by putting clothes on hangers and into the closet.
Doing such a chore one handed was tedious. Marianne put her other
clothes in drawers.

“Where did you go to
school, Aunt Judy?”

“I went to Greenwich
High, then Vassar, and I took an eight week course in New York about
how to be a legal secretary. I had already learned typing and
shorthand in high school. Then I went to work at a law firm and met
your uncle and have so far lived happily ever after. If I was your
age, I would probably be aiming at law school just like that girl is
aiming for medicine. Not all secretaries marry the boss. Some just
keep working for forty-five years for not much more money than when
they started. But in those days very few women went to law school,
and most of those had no hope of a job when they graduated. It was
the old story that for a woman to succeed in a man’s world she had
to be twice as good. A few years ago there was only one woman partner
in all the major New York law firms and that woman never married and
often worked six day weeks.” She paused a moment, and when Marianne
did not say anything continued, “That’s not to say a young woman
has to turn into a know it all or worse in getting ready to train for
a profession. If that Sarah Lear behaves like that all the time, she
is going to find that she needs to do some work on her bedside
manner.”

“Yes, Miss Lear seems
like a good one to stay away from.”

“There was a little
joke that went around ten or fifteen years ago that said, ‘Be nice
to the little people on your way up, so that they will be nice to you
on your way back down.’ Few people have a life that is one success
after another. For most people, life is a kind of bouncing around.”

“My mother was a
legal secretary. Have you two ever compared stories?”

“Not really. From
what I understand your father snatched her up so quickly she never
got out of the typing pool.”

“Is that what
happened? They never told me that.”

Aunt Judy paused for a
moment. “I want to change the subject. What I am about to say may
be none of my business, but I feel it needs to be stated plainly. We
touched on it last night, but I would like to hear your true thoughts
on the matter. From what I can see, this place is going to do nothing
for you musically.”

“That’s possible,
but I have reached the point where I have to figure out how and what
I play for myself. Anything anyone else says is something to be
considered and nothing more.”

“Are you sure that is
true?”

“Yes. Trust me. I’m
pretty good.”

“I haven’t heard
you play since you were nine, and you were pretty good then, so I
cannot know for sure. But even if your playing is perfect in all
respects, what about the study of theory and composition. And you
have a nice speaking voice. Have you had any singing lessons?”

“One thing at a time.
I play the piano. That is my gift. I’ve studied theory with Madame.
As for writing music, I don’t think I’m really meant for it.
Creating new melodies does not come naturally. My enjoyment is
mastering and playing the works of the greats. And I don’t want to
sing. I am not a natural soprano, and that is where ninety per cent
of the good roles for women are in opera.”

“O.K. No singing. No
composing.”

“Did you ever see the
movie, The Great Waltz?”

“Long, long ago.”

“There is a scene
where the birds are chirping in the trees, and by the end of the
scene Strauss has pretty well written Tales of the Vienna Woods.
If only it were so easy. And I have ears that can place an accurate
musical note on paper for every sound I hear, but that has nothing to
do with writing a decent melody.”

“I understand. But I
had to say it. You are here to get something out of this place, not
just to be one of their ornaments. They don’t even know what they
have in you. Don’t let this turn into two wasted years.”

“I won’t. Believe
me. I won’t. But I am also here for the conventional academic
experience. I don’t want to be somebody who knows a lot about music
and nothing about anything else.”

Aunt Judy refrained
from pointing out that she could have that out of any good high
school, including the one she left behind.

The unpacking, putting
away and making the bed were finished. Aunt Judy said good-bye. She
assured Marianne that she looked forward to seeing her in four weeks
when the whole school had a short weekend from 10:30 Saturday to 6:00
P.M. Sunday. She promised her house would have a piano when Marianne
came. Marianne told her not to spend a lot of money. A used upright
would be fine, as long as the keys worked. “When you buy it you
might be able to get a tuning thrown in. But if you don’t, I can do
it.”

“I’ll see what I
can do.”

Alone in her room,
Marianne sat down in the armchair. She could hear a group of girls in
another room talking and laughing. She thought she should go and
introduce herself, but knew that if she did not immediately fit in,
it would be awkward to excuse herself after a few minutes to come
back to an empty room. Better to stay by herself for a while until it
was closer to lunch time. The solitude did not last long, however.
Four knocks sounded. Marianne rose from the chair and opened the
door. “Hi, I thought I saw somebody go in here. A bunch of us are
getting to know each other at the end of the hall. Would you like to
join in?”

“Long enough. If the
schools hadn’t merged, I could be a day student.”

They walked to a room
at the end of the corridor that contained four other new girls. Betty
introduced Marianne and the other four introduced themselves. Julie
Hagen came from Short Hills, New Jersey. Bonnie Price was from New
York City. Margaret Henry was from Wilmington, Delaware, and Linda
Cook came from Denver and was the girl mentioned by Miss Earnshaw.
The latter three were fourth formers while Marianne, Betty and Julie
were in the fifth.

When Marianne had
entered the room the conversation had been about whether or not the
Beatles would ever get back together. After introductions Bonnie
said, “I was once told that for a boy to be admitted to the fifth
form at Waterman, he had to be either a very good athlete or a top
student. Does that now go for Faith Martin girls?” She looked
directly at Marianne as she spoke her question.

“Maybe. I understand
basketball helped me be accepted.”

“So you are a good
basketball player. You certainly have the height.” Marianne was the
tallest of the six.

“As you can see, I am
not playing much at the moment.”

“What about you,
Betty?”

“I made all A’s in
my last school, but so did a couple of others.”

“So, Betty is a
scholar. Julie, are you athlete or scholar?”

“Athlete, I guess.
Tennis.”

“What do fourth
formers have to do to be admitted?”

“Have parents who can
afford it.”

At one o’clock the
six girls went to the dining hall and ate lunch together. Immediately
after, Marianne excused herself from the group and walked over to the
Drew House basement where she found six small acoustic tiled rooms
containing spinet pianos. She entered one of the rooms, played a
couple of scales and was pleased to find the piano in tune. She left
the room and walked up and down the hall listening for anyone else
who might be there. Hearing no one, she re-entered the original room
and proceeded to play the piano part of Ravel’s Concerto for the
Left Hand.

That afternoon all the
new students went to the Williams Exercise building, known as the
Williams Ex, for a physical where height (5’11” for Marianne) and
weight (146 with clothes on) were measured. “Aaah” was said for
Dr. Meyers as he looked down each throat and listened to each
diaphragm with his stethoscope, and every student blew into a
mechanical contraption in which a cylinder rose to measure lung
capacity. The device appeared to be something out of the 19th century
and ready for a museum. The doctor told Marianne to come to the
infirmary after lunch on Monday to have her cast removed, and she
would then be sent to a physical therapy clinic in town. The master
presiding over the ancient lung measurement apparatus was Mr. Bryce,
a white haired piano teacher with a pronounced southern accent. He
recognized Marianne as being one of the new piano students. “Yes, I
remember all of the piano students’ names. You will be studying
with Mr. Piera. He is a graduate of Juilliard, and he looks forward
to working with beginning students.”

“Thank you. That is
good to know.”

As the senior piano
teacher, Mr. Bryce always grabbed the six most advanced students for
himself and left the rest for the other teachers. Before the girls
came, it was rare to have as many as fifteen piano students out of
650 boys, but now with 850 students, over 300 of them girls, they had
thirty-four. The serious students had four sessions per week with the
teacher. The other students had one session each week. The four
sessions’ students were given academic credit toward graduation
like any other full time course. One session classes were considered
personal development and no credit was given. Parents paid extra for
musical instrument classes as the teaching was one on one.

Mr. Bryce’s method
for keeping his job interesting had not gone unnoticed by Mr. Brodie,
the director of studies, or by the headmaster. Most of the piano
teachers, other than Mr. Bryce, had come and gone at two year
intervals over the years. Now that three piano teachers were needed
such a turnover was going to be more difficult to deal with if it
kept up. Not informing Mr. Bryce of Marianne’s abilities had been
deliberate on the headmaster’s part.

After completing her
physical, Marianne walked over to the basketball courts where six
boys were having a half-court game. She watched for a minute secure
in the knowledge that she was better than all of them. She assumed
they were all sixth formers, as all the new students had been going
through the physical and then receiving their locker assignments and
equipment, if any, for their fall sport. Initially, at least, there
would be no sport for her. First would come physical therapy, and
after that she had no intention of risking her arm playing soccer or
volleyball late in the term shortly before basketball season. If she
was forced to do something, she figured she would run cross-country,
not that she had ever done any long distance running before or had
any interest in it. But if she had to, she believed she could begin
with a dash, walk and trot the middle of the 2.1 mile route and
finish with a dash.

The other task new
students were encouraged to do that afternoon was to purchase their
textbooks and supplies. The bookstore occupied a room in the basement
of Post House where a master and some student helpers presided over
the stacks of new and used books. A line formed at the room’s Dutch
door, where the student would present the list of classes received
from the dean at arrival. One of the students in the room fetched the
books, the master wrote a receipt and the student signed. The dollar
amount would be billed to the parents. The line of students that went
down the hallway, U-turned, and came back up the other side gave
evidence that it was not a particularly efficient form of retailing,
but it was only once a year. After this, most of the books purchased
would be the novels assigned in the English classes every two weeks.

Marianne took her place
in line and silently inched her way forward. She had no desire to get
to know anyone she did not have to know. The last thing she wanted
was to meet someone from California who might know anyone at Monroe
High. She did not even want to meet anybody who had ever heard of her
old school, although she knew that was a bit much to hope for. Most
of the others in the line had arrived in groups of two or three and
were chatting happily with their new friends. Marianne stared at the
wall or into the distance and made no eye contact with anyone.

When she had purchased
her books, she saw that she was meant to take them in a pile. There
were eight books in all: three for English; three for history; a
geometry text and a French text. She asked if they had a bag. They
said they were sorry, but they did not. She momentarily thought of
using her casted arm as a base on which to balance the books, but the
thought of Marsh House being a quarter of a mile away made her
quickly discard such an idea. She would not do anything that would
put her arm at added risk. The thought of being a two handed piano
player now verged on the obsessive. It would have to be two trips,
she thought. She would come back with a bag, even a suitcase if need
be.

“If you can wait a
couple of minutes while I run my books upstairs, I’ll be happy to
carry yours to your house,” said the boy behind Marianne who had
also not spoken the whole time they were there.

“Thank you. That
would be very nice.”

“Give me two minutes.
My room is on the second floor.”

The boy, whose name she
would learn was Michael Barnfield, soon returned and took seven of
the books while Marianne took the heaviest. Together, they headed for
the stairs and the exit.

“Where do you live?”

“Marsh House.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down in the girl’s
part of the campus.”

“Where do you come
from?”

“San Francisco.”

“I’m from
Rochester, New York. Are you in the fifth form?

“Yes.”

“Me, too.”

Having just spent
forty-five minutes standing in line hoping not to have to speak to
anyone, Marianne decided she had better make an effort to be friendly
to someone who had offered to help her. “You are really very kind
to do this. I thought I was going to have to make two trips.”

“You are most
welcome. You would think they could have improvised something to help
a girl with only one good arm.”

“I have. I wanted a
change. Plenty of snow should fulfill that. How about you? Why did
you come here?”

“They say they are
going to make a big effort to make the school more friendly to those
of us interested in science. Next year they will begin a third year
physics course, and anyone who can handle it will be allowed to take
two science classes each year. And they gave me a partial
scholarship.”

“Wow. That’s pretty
good.”

“Yeah, and the funny
thing about it, I never even thought about going to a prep-school.
They found me. They had to convince me to want to come, and they had
to convince my father to pay for the non-scholarship portion.”

“That’s
interesting. Obviously, your father said yes.”

“He did. But he had
to think about it first. What about you? What are you interested
in?”

“Music. I play the
piano. I can play some other instruments, but the piano is my love.”

“I guess you are not
playing much at the moment.”

“No. The cast comes
off on Monday, but I have a few weeks before I will be anywhere close
to normal.”

“What kind of music
do you play?”

“Classical.”

“I don’t know much
about classical music.”

“Not many teenagers
do.”

“Not many teenagers
know much about physics, either.”

“Me included, I’m
afraid.”

When they reached Marsh
House, Michael put the stack of books on a table in the common room.
Boys were not allowed in the girls rooms. Marianne thanked Michael
profusely and carried her books up to her room in three trips.
Michael left thinking that he wanted to see more of Marianne, but was
not sure how to go about asking. He was too new to even be sure what
the school schedule was and what time was free before classes began
on Monday.

The next item on the
schedule was chapel at ten minutes past six. Everyone was asked to
arrive by six in order to be given their assigned seats and allow the
service to begin on time. The headmaster, Mr. Seaver, ordained in the
Episcopal Church, presided over the twenty minute service. He
welcomed all the new students to the school, read Mathew 5:41, “And
whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain,” and
gave a little sermon based on the passage. Its message had taken on
legendary proportions in the school, he said, because the term “two
mile man” was part of the school vernacular. It was a lesson that
he hoped and believed every Waterman boy, and now every Waterman
Faith Martin girl as well, took with them through life. Going the
extra mile when one does something one wants to do, or volunteers to
do, is comparatively easy. Giving your all to the things you are
compelled to do is much harder, but in doing so, one is a better
person in so many ways. Two mile men and women are the ones who can
be relied on when the going gets tough. They are the ones who see the
difficult projects through to completion. They are the ones who don’t
panic in a crisis. Most importantly, they know that they will fulfill
their promises and know that they can be relied on by their family,
friends and coworkers.

After chapel Marianne
met up with the other five new girls from the second floor of her
house and walked with them up the hill to Post House and the dining
hall behind. It was open seating and they picked a table with no
students yet there, and soon four other girls joined them. The table
was Mr. Blaine’s, a math master in his fifties who until the
previous year had never taught girls. He was almost tongue tied in
their presence if he could not talk about mathematics. Fortunately,
his wife joined them that night and managed to lead the conversation
by talking about the girls’ interests. Marianne talked a little
about music, but when the subject segued into rock she clammed up and
let the others go to it.

After dinner all the
houses had meetings. In the common room of Marsh House, the girls
filled the chairs and sofas which had all been turned toward the
empty fireplace. Those who arrived last stood in the rear. Miss
Earnshaw entered from the door to her apartment, walked up to the
hearth and began, “Good evening, girls. I have already met
everyone, of course, but in case anyone has forgotten, I am Miss
Earnshaw, the housemistress of Marsh House. I also teach ancient
history and European history where I shall see a few of you. Seated
on the couch are Miss Godowski and Miss Vincent. Miss Godowski lives
on the third floor and teaches French. Next to her is Miss Vincent
who teaches English and whose apartment is on the second floor. The
eight girls standing to the left of the fireplace are the sixth
formers. They help us run the house. In our absence, they are in
charge. If you ever have a question or a problem and we are not here,
go to one of them. Now, in the interest of all of you getting to know
each other, and for me to refresh my memory, I would like each of you
to state your name and where you live.”

Bonnie Price from New
York began. In the middle of the group a girl named Felicity Elliot
from Atherton introduced herself. So much for being the only girl
from California, thought Marianne. Standing in the back, Marianne was
next to last to give her name. When she did, Felicity turned and
stared. Marianne noticed and did her best to pretend not to notice.

Miss Earnshaw proceeded
to state some of the school rules. Attendance at all meals was
mandatory except for sixth formers who could miss dinner and Sunday
night supper if they left a note for the dean at his office, known as
the sanctum. Chapel was every day at ten minutes past six on Monday
through Saturday and at an announced time on Sunday. Attendance was
mandatory. Those who were late were shut out and would receive five
hours. Hours were the school’s method of discipline, and they were
hours of work at tasks that needed doing such as cleaning classrooms,
raking leaves or shoveling snow. Those who were late to class or any
scheduled activity had better have a good excuse or that too could
mean five hours. Everyone was awoken at seven in the morning for
breakfast at 7:25, and first period began at 8:05. Being caught
smoking meant expulsion, as did drinking alcohol. Being caught
cheating or stealing could mean expulsion, although some cheaters and
thieves were let off with a suspension or probation. Waterman had for
many years expelled about twenty-five boys a year. The belief was
that many of those boys no longer wanted to be at the school, and
they were just acting up so that they would be thrown out. Faith
Martin had a different philosophy. Any girl who was genuinely sorry
and promised to behave better and follow the rules in the future was
given another chance, or at least allowed to stay until the end of
the school year. But on these matters of smoking, drinking, cheating
and stealing Waterman’s rules are in force. Get caught smoking,
drinking or cheating on an end of term exam, and the student will be
gone as fast as his or her transport out could be arranged.

Miss Earnshaw went on
to give some advice that she described as “the most important thing
I have to say to some of you: if you get into a frame of mind where
you do not want to be here, don’t do something to get yourself
expelled just so you can leave. Come and talk to me about your
problems, and if you don’t think I am much help, the school has
counselors and the assistant headmistress and the headmaster. Most
problems can be resolved. Remember, you have to get your education
somewhere, and as schools go, this is a good one. The day is over
where the sixteen year old dropout can go out and conquer the world.
And if you think that being pretty and charming and accommodating
will get you what you want in men, don’t be so sure. Men may not
like their girlfriends to beat them at golf and tennis, but if you
are a bonehead you won’t be any intelligent man’s girlfriend for
long.

“Speaking of men and
boys, boys are allowed only in the common rooms of girls’ houses
and girls are allowed only in the common rooms of the boys’ houses.
This house has a further rule. Boys will not loiter in the common
room. If a boy comes here, it should be because he was invited by one
of you. And the only reason one of you should have invited him is
that you are going to walk together to somewhere else. Any boy I or
Miss Godowski or Miss Vincent or the sixth formers see here by
himself will be asked who invited him, and when he gives us a name,
we will go right to that girl’s room to hurry her along. So if you
don’t want us to barge in on you when you are applying your makeup,
be ready for him when he arrives. And then off you both go. No
hanging around here.

“Tomorrow will begin
with the regular wakeup at seven and breakfast at 7:25. Breakfast for
the girls in this part of the campus is next door in the basement of
Bridge House. As you know, lunch and dinner are in the dining hall
behind Post House. Returning fourth and fifth formers will arrive
between nine and noon tomorrow. All of you should have had your
physical this afternoon. Raise your hand if you did not.” No hands
went up. “If you have not yet bought your books, the bookstore will
be open this evening from eight to nine. Also, this is a school where
homework is assigned before the first day of classes. Read your
assignment sheets and try to get your work done at a leisurely pace.
Don’t wait until Sunday night and then try to do it all at once.
You won’t make it. As I said before, any questions or problems,
come and see me or a sixth former. That’s enough for the first
night. Get to know each other. Make friends. Walk around the campus
tomorrow and Sunday. Take advantage of the athletic facilities.”

Marianne wasn’t sure
whether to immediately head back to her room or say hello to the girl
from Atherton. She initially decided to head for her room, but on the
stairs she looked back at the common room and saw that Felicity was
looking at her. Marianne made a slight motion with her head to tell
Felicity to follow her. In Marianne’s room Felicity asked, “I’m
sorry to be so direct, but are you the girl who was the star
basketball player at Monroe last year?”

“I do have to confess
to that.”

“Gee, it’s a shame
about your arm. Will you be able to play this winter?”

“I should. The cast
comes off Monday. I’ll have the fall term to get ready.”

“Why did you come
here?”

“Why not? It’s
supposed to be a good school.”

“Monroe is supposed
to be the best public school in California.”

“I’ve heard that,
too,” said Marianne with a smile. “Atherton is a nice town. I
would think they have a good high school.”

“My mother went to
Faith Martin. She convinced me to come.”

“Let me just say that
I wanted a change. I had some personal problems. I would like to ask
you not to tell anyone what you know about me. Let the rest of the
school figure it out when basketball season begins. How do you know
about me?”

“My brother saw one
of your games and could talk about nothing else at dinner that night.
He said you were the best high school player he had ever seen, boy or
girl, and was amazed you were only a sophomore. After that I followed
you in the newspaper. Monroe always won, and you were always the top
scorer.”

“It’s nice to know
that I had a fan in Atherton.”

“My brother is not
much of an athlete. I’m not sure why he was at one of your games,
but you certainly made an impression on him. He will be most
impressed when I tell him that I know you.”

“If you could hold
off on doing that for a while, I would be most grateful.”

“Why?”

“Nobody in the Bay
Area knows where I have gone, and I would like to keep it that way
for now.”

“O.K. Top secret.
Mum’s the word. I guess there is more to the story than you are
going to tell me.”

“There is. I’ll
tell you someday, but for now I am just trying to lie low and mind my
own business.”

“You make it sound
like you are on the run from the law.”

“I know. It’s not
quite that bad, but it is a bit of a mess. I’m just here to try to
be a normal school girl and get myself ready for college, if I go to
college. Just treat me like I’m nothing special.”

“Got it. You’re
nothing special.”

“I’ll tell you
something else about me, but keep this one to yourself for another
few weeks, as well. I play the piano better than I play basketball. I
am sure good basketball gets more respect than good piano around
here, but the piano is my real passion. I’m not sure how long it
will be before I can begin using my right hand again, so if I am
wandering around looking lost that is the real reason.”

“Fascinating.”

“Enough about me.
What are your interests?”

“I play tennis. Where
I want to go to college or what I want to do after college, I don’t
know. Marry Mr. Right, I suppose. That is what my time here is
supposed to help me figure out. My mother thought Faith Martin was a
wonderful school. But of course that was a different time, different
place and no boys. She wasn’t enthusiastic about the merger. She
thinks girls learn more when there are no boys around.”

“A lot of people
think that. It may be true, but I have to wonder. Things one really
wants to know seem to stick in the brain no matter who is around.
Things that don’t seem so important seem to fall away after a time,
if they make their way into one’s brain in the first place.”

The two girls talked
about their mothers, fathers and brothers. They compared living in
the city with living in a suburb. They wondered if the school work
would be harder at Waterman than at the schools they had come from.
After an hour, Felicity excused herself and went up to her room on
the third floor. Marianne changed to her pajamas and went off to find
Miss Vincent to say goodnight. All the girls who lived on the second
floor were shaking hands with her, and Marianne remembered too well
the expression on Miss Earnshaw’s face that morning. I am not
offering my damaged right arm in its L-shaped plaster case, she
thought. “Goodnight, Miss Vincent,” said Marianne brightly with
her left hand stuck out. “Goodnight, Marianne,” replied Miss
Vincent taking Marianne’s left hand with her own left. That is an
improvement, thought Marianne.

In her room she sat in
the easy chair and looked out the window that faced south. Next to
the window she could see the moon rising in the east and the main
part of the campus to the west. In the chair, a few feet back from
the window, she looked into darkness in the south. Two lonely lights
burned softly over the entrances to the Old Gym and the Williams Ex.
The darkness covered the athletic fields and the hockey rinks and the
creek that bisected them and flowed into the pond next to Marsh
House. Up the hill to the east were more athletic fields that she had
not seen yet. The school owned over 400 acres.

She remembered the
remark about Wittgenstein she made that morning to Aunt Judy. She
thought of her stoic one-handed father. Now she knew what it was like
to live with only one usable hand, and yes it was doable, but it
still had its everyday moments of nuisance and help that needed to be
asked for. These weeks of left handed piano, a little bit of
left-handed basketball on an empty court, and no golf at all had made
her realize that the piano was the important thing. The ability to
play great music was, she now knew for certain, the greatest gift
that could have been bestowed on her. Life was incomplete without it.
In leaving San Francisco she had brought to an end her relationship
with the only piano teacher she had ever had. Would the teacher here
be any help? She hoped he would not be a hindrance.

And what was up with
this place? The new girls all seemed very nice, and Michael, the
science student, seemed straightforward and friendly, but she had met
the dean who came across like a ham actor, a teacher who had looked
at her as if she had committed a gross faux pas when she offered her
left hand even though the right was obviously hindered, and a sixth
form student who assumed she was some flighty girl who played piano
because that is what girls from good families did in 1890. Try not to
turn into one of these self-important types, she thought. Be
yourself. Be normal.

She went to bed, rolled
onto her left side and wondered how long it would be before she would
dare to go to sleep on her right side

Chapter
II

After breakfast the
next morning Marianne took the time from eight to nine to have a walk
around the athletic fields. A hundred yards south of Marsh House
Maple Street bisected the campus. The varsity football field lay
directly across the street. The Old Gym stood beyond the south end of
the field. Fields for football practice in the fall and baseball in
the spring were on its far side. On the north side of the creek were
wooden pilings for two natural hockey rinks in the winter, a football
field, and an artificial hockey rink. The Williams Ex building sat to
their east at the base of the hill. Up the hill was a quarter mile
oval track, the interior of which held the varsity soccer field in
the fall and the field events in the spring. To the south were more
fields for soccer and field hockey which would be converted to
baseball and softball in the spring. “Everyone should be well
exercised around here,” she thought.

Marianne returned to
her room shortly after nine. She wanted to be there to greet her
roommate when she arrived. She looked at the assignment sheet and saw
that she was supposed to read the first nine pages of a history text.
She opened the book and began to read. After three pages she realized
that she was not absorbing much about Bradford and the Pilgrims, and
returned to the beginning and began again. After forty minutes she
had completed the nine pages to her satisfaction. “Time for the
real stuff,” she thought. She pulled out her bag of sheet music and
took out Beethoven’s Thirty-first Sonata and began to read. After a
few minutes a knock sounded, and Felicity entered after hearing
Marianne’s, “Come in.”

“Is that what you do
for fun?” pointing at the music on Marianne’s lap.

“Exactly. It’s a
different world.”

“Do you hear the
notes as you read them?”

“I do.”

“Amazing! I started
to play the violin when I was in the fifth grade, but I wasn’t very
good, so I gave it up after a year. Do you play any other
instruments?”

“I learned how to
play the violin and the clarinet, but I don’t really play them. I
just wanted to get an idea of the difficulty of other instruments.”

At that point the door
opened and in walked a brown haired girl and her mother. Marianne
stood up. “Hello, I am Penny Scott and this is my mother, Joan
Scott. I assume only one of you is my roommate, and they haven’t
crammed three of us into this space.”

“I am your roommate:
Marianne Fallbrook. This is Felicity Elliot who is upstairs. We are
two Californians getting to know each other before we charge out to
take on Connecticut.”

“Good for you. You
never know what hidden dangers lurk around this place.”

“Oh, Penny! Don’t
start that with the new girls,” said her mother.

“Mother went to Faith
Martin and loved it. I went to Faith Martin and loathed it. Merging
with Waterman improved it a little.”

“Oh, Penny. Stop!
What will these girls think?”

“My mother went to
Faith Martin. She was Grace Mortenson, class of 1947.”

“Thank you for
changing the subject, Felicity. I was class of ’45. I have to admit
that my memory of the girls in the forms behind have faded over the
years. Which form did she begin in?”

“Third.”

“Well then, I should
remember, but I have to be honest and confess that I do not.”

“Perfectly
understandable. It was a long time ago.”

“Yes, and I have to
tell you that most of us in those war years loved our school. On the
weekends we were allowed to work as volunteers at the local hospital.
It taught us to take responsibility out in the real world, and helped
us to grow up quickly. It was so unfortunate that Penny got off to a
bad start in the third form, but that is all behind her now.”

“Maybe,” said
Penny.

“Please think
positive, dear.”

“Yes, mother. I’ll
give it the old Norman Vincent Peale try.”

Her mother looked at
her with an expression that combined pity with mild disapproval.
Penny looked back with teenage defiance. “Can I help you bring
anything up from your car?” asked Felicity.

“Yes, let’s go get
the rest,” said Penny.

All four of them went
down to a Ford station wagon and brought up the rest of Penny’s
luggage. Back in the room Marianne said, “Felicity and I will take
a little walk while you two say your good-byes.”

“My goodness, are we
that bad?” asked Mrs. Scott.

“No, not at all. I
just thought maybe you needed a few minutes of privacy.”

“We just had two
hours of privacy on the drive from Boston. I know how Penny feels.
She knows what I think. I’m happy she has such a thoughtful
roommate. I also understand that you are a good athlete.”

Marianne looked
dumbstruck for a moment and then said, “Yes, I am.”

“What sports do you
play?”

“Basketball and
golf.”

“Why did you come
here?”

“I thought I needed a
change.”

“Did you come here
with the idea of going to an eastern college?”

“I’ve never really
thought much about it. My father went to Stanford, and I’ve always
thought I could go there if I wanted to.”

“That’s fine. They
say Stanford is just as good as Harvard and Yale.”

“Californians think
it is even better.” Marianne smiled at her little joke, but Mrs.
Scott showed no recognition of the implied humor.

“Well, it’s nice to
meet a sensible girl from San Francisco. We read so much about
hippies and people smoking marijuana and taking LSD that it is easy
to think everyone’s lost their mind out there.”

“The drugs are there
for those who want them. But it is calming down now. The riots of
1968 turned Haight Street into a dump, and a lot of the hippies went
back to wherever they came from.”

“You are a very
sensible girl.”

“Don’t be so nosy,
mother. You’ve interrogated Marianne enough.”

“Yes, yes. I’m
sorry. I asked Miss Stiles who would be rooming with Penny and she
told me a girl from San Francisco who was a good athlete. I embarrass
my daughter sometimes, but if I didn’t, I would never find out
anything.” The three girls looked at each other and tried to
suppress smiles.

“I can see the
conspiracy of youth is beginning, so I’ll be on my way. I hope you
like the school, Marianne. It has a lot of good points, and it does
prepare its students for college.”

“Thank you, Mrs.
Scott.”

“I’ll see you in
four weeks, Penny.” Mrs. Scott said good-bye to Marianne and
Felicity and was gone.

The three looked at
each other in silence for a few seconds. “I suppose it looks like
my mother and I have a strained relationship. We don’t really. It’s
just that she loves Faith Martin based on close to thirty years ago,
and I don’t, based on the present. But please don’t make my
unhappiness your own. Some girls are very happy here. Study hard,
enjoy your sports, join a club or two, find a boyfriend. You may have
a great time.”

“I think I’ll take
off and let you two get to know each other,” said Felicity. “I’ll
see if I can find a tennis partner.”

“See you later,”
said Marianne as Felicity closed the door behind her.

“Did I scare her
away?”

“I don’t think so.”

“When I arrived at
the old campus two years ago, my head was full of my mother’s
stories about what a wonderful place it was. She was full of stories
of the girls all pulling together and doing their little bit to keep
the country going during the war years. I thought I was coming to a
place where everyone would be friendly and encouraging and living
happily. That was certainly not true in my case, and I have never
gotten the feeling that the majority of the girls were particularly
happy here. The boys aren’t either, but that’s another story.

“Faith Martin used to
have a fairly strict dress code. To meals, chapel and classes the
girls had to wear a white blouse buttoned all the way up to the top
button, and a skirt of either navy blue or the Martin plaid that
ended at least an inch below the knee. Third through fifth formers
had to wear white socks. Sixth formers wore white socks or beige
nylons. Third through fifth formers always wore flat shoes. Lace-up
brown oxfords were mandatory Monday through Friday; something more
stylish but still flat was allowed on weekends. Sixth formers could
wear heels on Saturday night and to Sunday chapel and dinner. Allowed
jewelry was one ring on a ring finger, small gold or pearl ear rings,
and a cameo, or something small on a gold chain around the neck. When
I arrived two years ago, that was pretty much dropped. Then we only
had to wear the uniform for Sunday chapel and dinner, and even that
was dropped when we moved to Waterman. Dresses, slacks, colored
blouses, colored socks and nylons were allowed for all forms. Anyone
could wear heels on Saturday night and Sunday. They still didn’t
allow mini-skirts, but if your skirt ended an inch above your knee
instead of an inch below, nothing was said.

“My mother convinced
me to stick with the old uniform. ‘You know what you are going to
wear every day. It will be one less thing to worry about,’ she
said. So I showed up with two blue skirts, one plaid skirt, a dozen
white blouses and not much else. I had a light green summer dress,
totally unsuitable as the fall got colder, and a pair of blue jeans
and plaid wool shirt in case I ever took a walk in the country or did
any dirty work crew jobs. The first day of class I was the only one
in the whole school wearing white blouse, plaid skirt, and white
socks and oxfords. The second day I wore my green dress. The third
day I was the only one in the whole place in a blue skirt. I called
my mother and said, ‘I need some more clothes.’ ‘We will get
you some when you come home for Thanksgiving,’ was her reply. That
whole first term I was wearing the uniform six days a week and the
dress one day a week. Every girl in the school was either laughing at
me or feeling sorry for me. And the two worst offenders were a couple
of girls named Ruth Larkin and Jennifer Sloane. They lived on the
same floor of the same house as I did, and they formed a little
clique from which I was excluded. They really are a nasty pair.
Anything I said or did was grist for a snide remark. By the end of
the year, I wanted nothing more to do with Faith Martin. But with the
change of campus, a much larger school with boys, it was bound to be
different, and mother convinced me to try it for another year.”

“How about this
year?”

”I decided this place
was my destiny, so I am going to let it all play out."

“On the more basic
level, when I arrived yesterday, I claimed the bed by the window and
put my things in the nearest dresser and closet. If you do not like
what is left, we can change around. Everything here is new to me. I
don’t really have any preferences yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’m
fine. I am actually glad that you took the bed near the window. The
center of the room tends to feel a bit warmer on a winter’s night.
The cold seeps through the walls and under the windows. And sit in
the easy chair anytime you wish. First come, first served.”

“Thanks.”

At that moment Penny
heard some talking in the hall. She opened the door, saw a girl and
her mother carrying luggage, and closed the door quietly. “That was
Ruth Larkin. It looks like she will be down the hall. Another great
year begins.” Penny looked out the window for a few moments and
then said, “I don’t want to be too negative. There are good
points. Science teaching is good for the most part. There are AP
classes in biology, physics and chemistry. The food is good for a
school. The athletic facilities are great. There are lots of
extra-curricular clubs. The boys behave fairly well around us most of
the time. They are very glad to have girls here. The downside is
living with and putting up with some of the other girls, and a few of
the teachers are just old lunkheads. A couple of the younger ones
aren’t the greatest either, but once you are here you can request
your teachers for the coming year so the new students are the ones
who get stuck with the really bad ones for the most part.”